


Jazz Club

by icybluepenguin



Series: Brown Plaid Doll [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 1920s, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Fingering, Gangster!Tom, Jazz - Freeform, Jazz Age, Prohibition, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, all the dirty talk, bossy Tom, more dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icybluepenguin/pseuds/icybluepenguin
Summary: Tom and Kate go on their real first date to the fanciest jazz joint in the city.





	Jazz Club

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story, I actually wrote this years ago and have been hanging on to it since about chapter 2 of Brown Plaid Doll. After a long (loooong) editing process, I am happy to share this with you. I hope I can write more in their world as time goes on too- I’m just so slow at it these days.
> 
> 20’s slang: brown plaid- Scotch whiskey; doll- a woman; rotgut- cheap bootleg alcohol; rube- a country hick or gawking tourist; quiff- a slut or cheap prostitute; French 75- a cocktail made from champagne, gin, lemon juice, and sugar  
> 20’s slang: brown plaid- Scotch whiskey; doll- a woman; rotgut- cheap bootleg alcohol; rube- a country hick or tourist; quiff- a slut or cheap prostitute; French 75- a cocktail made from champagne, gin, lemon juice, and sugar

With one hand on my back, Tom ushered me through the double glass doors under the blazing white marquee reading "Crystal Room.”  Smaller glowing letters listed the major acts of the weekend and flyers decorated the walls outside, occasionally one of the throng of pedestrians would stop and look for a while.

This was the first time Tom was taking me out as his _girlfriend_ \- being seen out and around the city (and by his associates) instead of secreting ourselves in his office or house.  Between that and the fact that I'd never been anywhere like the Crystal Room, I was excited and nervous and practically vibrating with energy.  This was the fanciest jazz club in the city, so popular among the wealthiest citizens, socialites, and politicians that the cops never bothered to bust it- even though the club made no attempt to hide that it was serving illegal alcohol.

I inhaled sharply at the interior of the club, my eyes widening.  There were four elaborate crystal chandeliers hanging from the decorated ceiling, although they weren’t lit now, most of the light coming from table candles and the stage.  The center of the room was recessed, creating a higher area around the edges lined with shadowed booths covered in pristine white linen.

It was beautiful.

“Ah, Mr. Hiddleston, sir!”  The maitre'd bowed slightly at the waist.  "So nice to see you, sir.  And in such lovely company.  Would you like your usual table, sir?"

"Johnny.  Yes, thank you."  Tom nodded.  I couldn't stop looking around, at the murals on the walls, the waiters carrying delicious-looking food, the huge crimson curtains around the stage trimmed in gold. I twisted a little to see the band playing on stage, the spotlight making the brass instruments glow, as we followed the maitre'd to our table- one of the shadowed booths along the back wall.

"Starling, stop squirming," Tom said, struggling to remove my satin wrap as I twisted this way and that to look at everything.  “You’re acting the rube.”

“I’m sorry, Tom.  I’ve just never been to a club this nice before.” 

“That’s obvious, doll,” he chuckled, quiet, warm.  “Rather my point.”  He handed my wrap and his long overcoat to the maitre’d and helped me slide into the upholstered bench seat, leaning close to whisper low in my ear, “If you don’t close your mouth, I’ll have to find something to put in it.”

Goosebumps flocked over my skin at the scorch of his breath on my ear, a shiver sliding down my spine.  But before my resulting blush could fully bloom, he had straightened and sat down as if nothing had happened.

“Scotch neat, please, Johnny.  And the lady will have a French 75.”  When Johnny had taken his leave, Tom looked at me.  “Ever had real champagne?”

I shook my head.  “Or quality gin, either.  The Green Frog isn’t one of your clients, you know.”  As if the little speakeasy that my friends and I frequented could ever afford to buy from Tom Hiddleston.  He didn’t just run liquor brewed outside the city.  He was known- in the right circles, of course- for importing directly from Europe, sometimes even Russia or China.  His Scotch was straight from Edinborough. 

"Ah, you're in for a treat then," he murmured, pulling me to him with an arm around my waist as he turned his body towards me.  He stroked my cheek with the back of his free hand.  "You look good enough to eat tonight, starling."

He looked incredible himself.  Dressed in a nearly-black houndstooth wool suit, he looked every inch the powerful man he was, his blue eyes glittering in the dim light.  His tie was scarlet, drawing my eyes to his slim neck- the smooth skin, the tendons I wanted to nip and nibble, the ones that stood out when he threw his head back as he laughed, as he came-

"What are you thinking, dirty girl?"

My cheeks flared with heat.  "Uh, nothing, sir," I mumbled, smoothing down a wrinkle in the tablecloth, fidgeting with my fork. 

"Mm.  That little smile and blush you're trying to hide says otherwise."  Tom's hand slid into my hair, tilting my head up.  "What dirty secrets are behind those pretty blue eyes, hm?  You and I both know you’re no innocent..."  His mouth dipped to mine.  The kiss was a sweet and slow promise, his tongue gliding over my lips, tasting me, savoring me.  His fingers curled, nails scratching my scalp, making me quiver in his arms. 

When he pulled back, my thoughts were hazy and I swayed against him, drunk on sensation without a drop of alcohol.  I didn't even notice that our drinks had arrived until Tom reached for his, a satisfied smirk playing across his lips.

"Drink up," he said, tilting back his tumbler for a long sip.  "The next set is starting."

My drink, sweet and fizzy and smooth, was served in a delicate glass flute.  It wasn't at all like the rotgut I was used to- and I would bet there was a deceptive amount of alcohol in it.  I leaned into Tom, enjoying the casual intimacy of the evening.  I could feel his chest rise and fall with each steady breath, the heat of him seeping through his suit.  One hand rested on the table, his long dexterous fingers drumming on the white linen.

We watched the first song in comfortable silence, his arm along the back of the bench.  The wool of his jacket was scratchy on my bare arms, the straps of my dress providing no protection.  He had presented me with this silk and chiffon beauty in the morning, watching as I exclaimed over the cascade of glass beads down the skirt and the beautiful pattern of rhinestones along the deep neckline.  It showed far more skin than I was used to doing in the winter, dipping low on my back and covering only the tops of my shoulders. 

“Do you know this song?”

“Hm? Oh, no, sir, I don’t.” 

The band was incredible, a rich six piece ensemble.  The singer was tall and sultry with long wavy hair that I envied and a voice I envied even more.  Her sparkling dress had a plunging neckline that went in a V nearly to her navel. 

But Tom’s eyes were locked on my own cleavage.  His hand hand snuck under the table, playing idly with the beaded strands of fringe on my dress, rolling them against my thigh, picking them up to patter back down on my skin to the beat of the drum.

“Have I told you that your breasts look amazing in this dress?  I can see your nipples pressing against the fabric.  It would call quite a bit of attention if I reached in there to pinch them, suck on them, wouldn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer, but I couldn’t even make a sound when his warm palm slid slowly up the inside of my thigh.

“But here…” he murmured, his nimble fingers dancing over my skin- soft, gentle, light.  “Here, I can play all I want, and no one will see.”  

I swallowed, a small tremor starting in my arms.  “Tom-”  I choked on a squeak as he pinched me in warning.

“Shh.  No one will see.  We’re in the back, we’re blocked by the table, and under this tablecloth.  At least, the parts I’m interested in right now are under the tablecloth.  No one will see.”  He nuzzled my neck, inhaling deeply.  “Christ, you smell fantastic.  New perfume?”

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat.

"Oh ho.  Naughty, naughty girl," he breathed against the shell of my ear when he reached the top of my thigh, delight obvious in his tone.  "That dress is rather short to be going without knickers, isn't it?"

Fingers stroked up and down, ruffling through the curls between my legs.  I bit my lip; despite my normal modesty, the very public place we were in- even if we were hidden by a table- sent a guilty wash of arousal through me.  I knew he could feel it, too.

“Mm, you are so warm here.”  A touch at the top of my mound, drifting slowly downwards.  “You’re warm all over, though- I can feel your blush.  But what’s this?  You’re also so… very… wet…  You like this, don’t you?”

I couldn’t even respond, my head falling back against his shoulder.  My hands clutched at his wrist as he slid a finger deep inside me, curling it and making my grip falter.

“Oh yes, you like this.  Claiming you here, all in secret- but how long can you stay quiet?  Spread your legs a little more for me.”  His words were scalding on my already heated skin, my hips twitching when he added a second digit.  “What a filthy doll you are.  So demure and yet… here you are, in a popular club, with my fingers up your hungry cunt.  My perfect little whore.”

I was so lost in his words and the feel of him that it took me long, glorious minutes before I realized that he was timing his thrusts to the music.  The saxophone played a long, gentle note and his fingers dragged out slowly.  Another long blow and he pressed back in until the note changed.  Over and over, adding the tiny gasps and quiet mewls that I couldn't swallow to the song.

The tempo picked up and so did he, fingertips tapping the sensitive spot inside me with every beat.  My teeth dug into my lower lip to stifle my noises, fighting the urge to moan, to arc up into his touch and offer my whole body to him, audience be damned. 

Except there was an audience- or there could be.  I stiffened, took a deep breath, and tried to sit up a little more.  I did my best to appear innocent and unflustered to anyone who might be looking.  But on a particularly long and firm stroke, my hips rose, pressing myself harder onto his fingers until he tutted in my ear.

“Stay still, starling.  You wouldn’t want everyone to know what I’m doing to you, would you?  That I have my fingers so deep inside you, I can feel every beat of your heart?  It’s beating quite fast now.  Do you need to come, sweetheart?  Do you need to come on my fingers?”

I whimpered, digging my teeth into my lower lip.  My eyes squeezed shut and my hand gripped his thigh, hard.  I turned my head, burying my face in his neck, something like a stifled sob escaping me.

“You are so wet that you’re dripping down my hand,” he chuckled in a dark voice.  “My precious slut.  Such filth hidden behind your shy demeanor.”

I rubbed my cheek into his shoulder.  _Please, please... please,_ I thought incoherently as the music picked up speed again- and so did his fingers, stroking, pressing, stretching.  The song built, note upon note, thrust and drag... 

A long, soulful wail of the saxophone sounded and Tom sank three fingers deep inside me, holding them there and grinding his palm down on my clit.  The music swelled, crested, and so did I, Tom playing me like an extra instrument in his own private band, and when the singer belted out the last line, he brought me over the edge, my breathy cry lost in the final high note from the stage.

He pulled his hand back as applause broke out around the club.  I watched him in a daze, my head resting heavily on his shoulder.  I waited for him to lick his fingers clean, with that look of a cat who’s gotten into the cream.  Instead, he dipped his fingers into his drink, swirling them around before wiping them on a napkin.  He raised the glass to his lips and took a long sip.

“Exactly what this brown plaid needed- a bit of my lovely doll,” he purred.  His eyes were dark, almost entirely black in the dim light of the club.  He took another taste of his scotch while he looked me over.  I was sure I looked a sight- my hair a bit mussed, my face and neck flushed, my nipples hard under the light silk and chiffon of my dress.  I licked my lips, took a steadying breath, and then I slid my hand along his thigh until I cupped his cock, hard and thick beneath the wool of his suit.

"Mr. Hiddleston!  I did not know you were here tonight.  Are you enjoying the band?  They're new here."

I jumped in my seat, snatching back my hand and extra heat flooding my cheeks as I looked away from Tom to see a short man in an elegant suit standing at our table.  He spoke with a heavy Italian accent, his hands constantly moving as he talked.

"Ah, Michael, hello.  The band is marvelous, isn't it, Kate?"  Tom waited for me to mumble my agreement before introducing me.  "Michael, this is Miss Kate Brown.  Michael owns the Crystal Room, darling.  He has the best nose for talent around."

"Oh, no, sir, I'm just a simple businessman," Michael demurred, waving his hands aimlessly.

"As am I, of course."

Both men chuckled.

"Can I freshen your drink, Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Thank you, no, Michael," Tom demurred with a small smile, taking a sip.  "This one is just _perfect_." 

I was sure that I would burst into flame from embarrassment.  My cheeks must have been as red as tomatoes.  My skin prickled with heat, my dress suddenly too rough and tight.  The two men chatted for a few minutes.  Tom was casual, his tumbler dangling from his fingers, but his hand under the table was stroking the inside of my wrist, drawing elegant patterns on the sensitive skin.  I stared hard at my own glass, certain that my face would give away everything to Michael.

"I was wondering, though, might I use your office for a few moments?  I just remembered I _must_ make a call- work never ends, eh?" 

"Of course, Mr. Hiddleston.  Anything I can ever do for you..."

"Thank you, Michael."  Tom nodded in dismissal.  Once the man had left the table, Tom's grip on my wrist closed like a vise.  "Come along, Kate.  I have... business to attend to."  His glance down at my chest with a lick of his lips told me everything I needed to know about what "business" he needed to do.

_Me._

He pulled me up with him and hurried to the small office in the back of the club.  It was clean and neatly kept, lined with filing cabinets, papers and record books stacked neatly in the corner of a large wooden desk.  Tom closed the door behind us and flicked the lock.  I could still hear the band, muffled and indistinct.

He took a step forward, the confident predator ready to play with his prey.  I backed away, until I bumped the desk.  I braced my shaking hands behind me, using them to hoist myself up.  Leaning back a little, I crossed one leg over the other, letting the fringe of my dress dangle enticingly over my thigh with a shy smile. 

Tom watched every move avidly, letting out a low “ _Ooooh”_ and stroking his throat with one hand.  His eyes, full of hungry fire, traveled down slope of my body, tracing each curve.

"Oh, starling-” he tilted his head, looking at me from under his high brow, “I want tear that dress right off of you.”  He licked his lips.  “And the thought of taking you home, your bare body hidden only by my coat while we walk down the street... The temptation to pull you into an alley and fuck you naked against the bricks..."

My breath was coming faster, a pink flush creeping up my throat at his words.  My stomach filled with delightful, torturous butterflies as Tom stalked towards me. 

“But, sir, we drove here.”  I couldn’t keep from smiling, half amusement, half nerves.

He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.  I let my lips part, my tongue darting out to wet them.

“Another time, then.  For now, I'll just have to settle for fucking you senseless.”

I shivered at the drop in his voice, the growl and husk of it.  “Y-yes, sir.”

"No one to hear you now," he murmured, his hands running up my thighs.  "While I have my way with you… My cock deep inside you, splitting you open, while you play the whore for me."  He trailed gentle bites along my jaw to my ear.  "You love playing the whore for me, don't you, Kate?  Letting me fuck you on a desk that’s not even mine?"

"Yes, sir," I breathed, tilting my neck invitingly.  He obliged, his teeth scraping down the column of my throat to end just above my shoulder.  He dug in, sucking hard, and I gasped in delight, leaning my head even farther in encouragement.

He laughed against my skin.  "No doubt about that.  Mmm, I love those noises you make.”  He lifted my hand and pressed the palm against his erection, letting me feel the truth in his words.  He moved my hand up and down, stroking himself through his trousers.

"Lay back.  Let me see that sweet, wet cunt."

I did, my head resting on Michael’s blotter.  The wood was cold on my flushed skin, raising goosebumps that Tom smoothed his big, warm palms over.  He stepped between my spread legs, his belt and fly soon undone and his hard cock bumping my thigh.

He stroked a finger over my slick folds.  “I wish I had more time to savor how soaked I’ve made you tonight.  But Michael will be needing his office back…”  He raised his hand and sucked my fluids from his skin.  “My god, what a lovely quiff you are for me…”

Tom slid his hands under my legs, rubbing the backs of my thighs for a moment before caressing the sensitive skin behind my knees.  I whimpered when he raised my legs onto his shoulders, a sound that earned me a nip and nuzzle on my ankle before he coaxed me to hook them together behind his head.

The skirt of my dress fell down to pool around my waist as he pulled my ass a little farther off the desk.  His suit was scratchy-soft against my legs- every time he moved, it scrubbed my skin, a hot, almost-itchy distraction.

“My starling, always good for a quick and dirty fuck, whenever I want.” 

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting his honeyed, dark tone of possession wash over me.  "I am all yours."  My voice was shaky, quiet, his words carrying a weight that tied my stomach into fluttery knots of anticipation. 

He hissed through his teeth as he rocked his hips, sliding his cock along my drenched folds.  "Fuck, I could get off just like this.  Feels so good, Kate, so slippery and hot.  I could use you like this, your lovely thighs clamped around my cock...  Shoot my come all over your pretty new dress..."  His head tipped back, a moan rising from his throat.

I arched in invitation.  "Tom, please," I begged.  " _Please_ , fuck me."

He looked down at me, grinning in amusement.  "Why, Miss Brown.  What a dirty mouth.  I like it."

A shift of his weight and a moment later, the slick length of him slipped easily inside.  I squirmed in his grip, relishing the stretch and slide, the pressure points he awoke sending jolts through my body that made it impossible to stay still.

Tom surged forward, grinding his hips hard.  I closed my eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hands, the slam of his thighs into mine, the quiet grunts from his mouth.  Sparks burst behind my eyelids with each hard thrust and I rose to meet him with increasing boldness.  It was intense, consuming, and I more of it... _more_...

"Oh God, _Tom_ -"  I whimpered. 

"Touch yourself, starling.  Make yourself come on my cock."  His hands slid up and down my bare thighs, resting vertical on his stomach.  He slowed, pulling out almost entirely to drive back in with a growl.

I was certain my blush turned me bright red all the way down my neck.  My hand drifted down, sliding over my belly and between my legs, until my fingers found my clit, wet and slippery.  I sighed in relief, touching the hard, aching little bud, circling it to the rhythm of his movement, my touch light and gentle. 

I floated on the primal sounds he made, on the feel of him- so strong, so firm- leaving my self-consciousness below me, allowing me to grind into his thrusts and my hand with no embarrassment.  My other hand cupped a breast through my dress, pinching and tugging on the nipple until it stood against the fabric.

“Oh, that's my good girl,” Tom groaned.  “Touch yourself, that's it…“

He drove into me with more force and I pressed harder on myself to match.  His grip on my thighs tightened, his fingertips digging hard into the muscle until I yelped, my eyes opening to see him tall and golden-haired above me.  He watched my fingers rub and slide as he pounded into me in brutal long strokes.  My breath came in small huffs, my body coiling tighter and tighter...

Then he slowed, bringing me back from the precipice, and my fingers matched him unconsciously, automatically following his lead.  I returned to my light teasing, despite the unsatisfied ache he created.  Once more, he took me to the brink and back down, to the rhythm of muffled music rising and falling.  Our own private, intimate dance, with steps only we knew.  Steps made up of wet and hard, sweat and slap, gasp, grunt...

"Ready for the finale, my darling?"  Teeth grazed my calf, then bit and he sucked fiercely, sure to leave a large mark.

I lifted my hips and moaned my encouragement, words lost to me, pressing into my hand and onto his cock.

He slammed into me with new force and I let out a strangled squeak, my head thumping on the desk.  He was possessed, his grip on my legs tight and unyielding, yanking me towards him with each deep thrust.

"Come for me, Kate.  Come all over me, use your talented... little fingers... on yourself," he ordered in broken grunts.  His face was flushed with effort and his eyes were glued to my hand on my clit, watching my fingers furiously slip and press and rub.

My legs clenched together, my calves pressing against his neck as the sensations flooded my body.  My back arched, a stuttering cry falling from my lips, begging for more, to keep this feeling forever, to swim in this sea of everything and nothing until I drowned.  Tom roared above me, his rhythm abandoned as he came inside me, slow, erratic strokes milking out the last of his pleasure.

He carefully lowered my legs from his chest and bent over me, eyes closed and breathing hard, bracing his arms on either side.  I stretched, languid, sated, then leaned up to caress his neck with tender kisses.  I twined my arms around his shoulders, my fingers twisting in his damp curls.

He opened his eyes as if they weighed a thousand pounds.  "Damn it, Kate.  What you do to me…”  He shook his head in a slow, drunken arc.  “Fuck, I think I saw God."

I would have giggled but for the look in his eyes.  It made my stomach flip and my heart skip several beats.  His eyes were warm and soft and vulnerable.  Not at all the commanding, cool, glittering blue they normally were.  His whole face looked different.  Relaxed... content… and something else.

I blinked and it was gone.  He helped me to sit up and I searched his face, but all I saw was his familiar calculating expression, as if even now, he was planning his next move.  Had I imagined that look?

His hands were stroking my hair..  He caught one curl and wrapped it around his finger, tugging gently.  "You look so pretty just after I've fucked you," he murmured.  "All flushed pink and satisfied."  He cupped my chin and brought my mouth to his for a slow, deep kiss.  When we parted, he put his lips to my ear.  "Let's get back to our dinner.  Eat quickly, though, because I _will_ be having you for dessert and I'm not at all sure I won't do it right there on that table if there is any delay."

I smiled up at him as I danced my fingers down the buttons of his shirt.  "You wouldn't, sir… It would ruin your reputation."

"Willing to risk it, starling?"  His eyes glinted, with hunger and humor, and he licked his lips before adjusting his suit coat and helping me down from the desk.

No, I knew I hadn’t imagined it.  I also knew what it was.

_Love._


End file.
